About Me

I'm Jason and I was born and raised in Manila. I started writing professionally at age 19, when my byline first appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer. I then became one of its student correspondents, and my assignments included being a gasoline boy and a T.G.I. Friday's waiter for a day.
At present, I'm an Intranet content manager and a contributing lifestyle journalist.
My work has also appeared in SilkWinds (Singapore), Aspire (Hong Kong), and www.interaksyon.com.
I mainly blog about food, movies, and occasionally, current events.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

What should be strictly a courtroom drama is stretched to two hours of convoluted film that attempts to deal with addiction, abusive relationships, ethics, morality, and justice.

Surprisingly, it works.

Denzel Washington plays a pilot who miraculously lands a plane after a harrowing flight. (If you are boarding a plane in the next few days, stay away from this film—it's traumatizing. Tatin: "Siguro naman wala 'to sa in-flight entertainment ng airlines!") He's a hero, without a doubt, but his checkered past threatens to pin him down in the crash investigation.

Audiences would be challenged to take sides in a debate that is hardly black or white. This is compounded by a compelling portrayal of an alcoholic by Denzel, whose arrogance and nuanced defiance are most often effortlessly (and sufficiently) expressed by his eyes. For someone who passes uncompromising judgement on people and issues, I found it hard to make up my mind on him.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

I learned about Brave New World through Grace Coddington's autobiography. She mentioned former Vogue editor Lady Clare Rendlesham, who I googled and later learned had a grandson who committed suicide in 2011 after reading the book by Aldous Huxley.

The dystopian novel is set in 2540 London, where science has made everything so perfect it's become terrifying. To create a harmonious society, a caste system has been established, where individuals have been programmed as early as fetuses to be satisfied with their roles; parents are eliminated—the mere mention of mother shocks anyone because it's such a blasphemous concept; and monogamy is extremely frowned upon. The idea is that no one feels passionate for anything or anyone since passion makes people impulsive, volatile, and erratic, and may therefore lead to an unstable society.

The first few pages may be jarring for the reader because of the clunky sci-fi terms—the novel was written in 1931 and science then has yet to reduce technology to extreme brevity. Take for example, his description of a reporter attempting to make a live broadcast:

"And rapidly, with a series of ritual gestures, he uncoiled two wires connected to the portable battery buckled round his waist; plugged them simultaneously into the sides of his aluminum hat; touched a spring on the crown-and antennæ shot up into the air; touched another spring on the peak of the brim-and, like a jack-in-the-box, out jumped a microphone and hung there, quivering, six inches in front of his nose; pulled down a pair of receivers over his ears; pressed a switch on the left side of the hat-and from within came a faint waspy buzzing; turned a knob on the right-and the buzzing was interrupted by a stethoscopic wheeze and cackle, by hiccoughs and sudden squeaks. 'Hullo,' he said to the microphone, 'hullo, hullo.'"

Nevertheless, going past that, Huxley offers a world which is chilling in its despotism and pragmatism. I've always considered the latter as a virtue, as one's anchor to logic and reason, but the novel offers a different, perverse perspective, and for that I am impressed (by the enlightenment it offers). One has to surrender himself to love, and consequently, to pain. In the context of the suicide incident I noted above, it's almost as if he did it to live.

I'm crossing off "Drink wine once a month" off my list after a harrowing 9 hours last Saturday, which involved a lot of vomit, headcahe, stomach ache—all while dealing with a flooded apartment* I don't have anyone to blame except my stupid self—what can one expect from drinking an entire bottle in less than two hours.

* * * *

In other news, I'm transferring to Google Plus for now because I love the UI (it looks like the smarter and dignified cousin of Facebook) and because I'm attempting to harness the collated power of Google trying to streamline my online presence once again ("By creating a new site?" the devil's advocate smirked). I'll have less control of my page layout, I know, so I'm still not sure if I can fully make the transition; we'll see.

Monday, February 11, 2013

When Richelle aka weekendsinthecity asked for my postal address weeks ago, I was thrilled because as her blog follower, I know she's been making handcrafted cards and I would be happy—honored even—to receive one of her creations.

Imagine my surprise, when instead of a postcard, which was what I expected, I received a brown package and therein contained not just one, but so many of her magical works.

Aside from a very sweet note, she sent me my very first washi type in my favorite print (Richelle's collection was recently featured in Inquirer); ink-stained (or is it watercolor?) stickers, which she made herself (I love how organic they look); and a cute paper origami which I'm unfraid to unfold because knowing myself, I won't be able to put it back together, haha!

She also made "resolution reminder cards" which I sorely need because this early, I'm already starting to slack away, e.g., my last blog entry was in January! Plus, a couple of just-in-case emergency note cards. Note too her beautiful calligraphy:

More note cards, this time with a cheeky, "Hoy!" Haha, lovett!

As if those weren't enough, she also sent in Filipino Thank You cards. Her design and calligraphy are gorgeous and elegant; I also love the linen finish of the paper she used. If she starts selling these, I'd be first in line and I'm sure she'd make a killing.